Morning brought no comfort to Tharn's Hollow. A heavy blanket of clouds rolled in despite it being midsummer. By noon, the sky was an unsettling shade of iron-gray, casting the village in twilight gloom. The air felt thick and oppressive. Villagers gathered in small clusters, eyes cast upward or toward the tree line. Everyone sensed it: something was coming.
Liam helped his father board up the windows of their cottage as a precaution. The plan was to be ready for anything. Some families with small children prepared to take shelter in the stone cellar beneath the meeting hall, the sturdiest building in the village. Others sharpened old weapons—rusty swords that hung over mantels, hunting bows, even pitchforks—determined to protect their homes if needed.
In the dim afternoon, a sudden commotion erupted near the livestock pens. Panicked shouts rang out. Liam and his father dropped their tools and ran toward the noise, joining a half dozen villagers already there. What they saw sent a jolt of fear through Liam's heart: a pack of wolves had crept out of the silent forest, bolder than ever, and now skulked at the edge of the grazing field. Their eyes shone with hunger and madness.
The village's lone cow and several goats bleated in terror within their pen. Normally, wolves would never approach so many humans in daylight, but something had driven them past fear. One of the beasts, lanky and grizzled, snarled and lunged at the fence.
Harin, Tomlin's uncle, stepped forward with his bow drawn. Flames flickered at his fingertips as he called upon his Ember Fox Essence. With a swift motion, he sent a blazing arrow into the ground in front of the lead wolf. Fire flared up, and the creature recoiled with a startled snarl. The other wolves paced and bared their teeth, alarmed but not yet driven off.
Liam's father gripped his wood axe and planted himself in front of the other villagers. Liam, hands trembling, grabbed a sturdy wooden staff from near the pen.
Suddenly, two of the wolves darted around the flames and charged. The men met them with shouts. Harin's next arrow struck one wolf in the flank, knocking it aside. The second wolf sprang at a farmer, but Liam's father intercepted it with a powerful swing of his axe's flat side, sending the animal yelping and scrambling back.
For a brief, furious moment, shouts and snarls filled the air. Then, between the burst of fire and the villagers' desperate defense, the pack had enough. The wolves slunk back into the woods, dragging their injured. A tense silence fell as everyone caught their breath. One man had a bleeding bite on his arm, promptly bandaged by Mara the herbalist, but no one had been killed.
Harin stomped out the smoldering grass and met Liam's father's eyes. They exchanged a grave nod. If even the wolves were desperate enough to attack, the threat looming beyond the woods was growing.
Evening fell, though the sun remained hidden behind churning clouds. The entire village gathered in the meeting hall, a sturdy stone lodge that suddenly felt too small for so many frightened souls. By the flicker of oil lamps, Elder Serel—white-haired and resolute—urged everyone to stay calm. Those with Essences or weapons would take turns standing guard through the night. The rest would huddle together in cellars and the hall, ready to flee if the worst came.
Liam's family huddled together on blankets in a corner of the hall. His mother cradled baby Kara, who mercifully slept through the commotion. Liam leaned into his father's side, taking comfort in the solid warmth and the steady thump of his pa's heart. Despite the elder's reassuring words, fear hung as thick as the storm clouds outside.
Hours dragged by. Liam dozed fitfully, starting awake at every distant noise. Close to midnight, a sudden pressure in the air made his ears pop. An awful sound followed—a deep, resonant CRACK that resounded through earth and sky, making the walls tremble.
People shouted in alarm. Liam's father was already on his feet, pulling his family toward the doorway. Against orders to stay inside, many stumbled out into the open, drawn by the instinct to see.
Above the village, the clouds were whirling away as if blown by a mighty force. In their place, the night sky rippled with strange light. High above, a jagged line of brilliance had torn across the darkness—a shining crack in the sky itself. Liam's heart pounded. It was as if the fabric of the world was ripping open.
Another thunderous crack split the air, widening the rift. Some villagers screamed; others fell to their knees in fear. Liam stood transfixed, eyes reflecting the unearthly glow. He barely noticed when his mother pulled him back under the hall's doorway as glowing fragments of something began to drift down like falling stars.
"The sky… it's broken," Liam breathed, pressing against his mother's skirt. In that moment, under the fractured heavens, he knew with a chill that life in Tharn's Hollow would never be the same. The long-dreaded moment was here.